


Let It Be

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dark Tony Stark, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Organized Crime, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-28 04:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: ‘You should never meet your heroes’. Peter had heard that before and knew it was meant to keep people from putting others on pedestals, because people would always be a little less than perfect and if you thought otherwise you were doomed to be disappointed. It was about tempering expectations and accepting people as the humans they were, at least Peter was pretty sure that was what one was supposed to take from it.And yet as he craned his neck back as best he could, considering a beefy scowling man had his elbow between Peter’s shoulder blades and was twisting one of his arms painfully behind his back to keep him down, to look at the bored face of Tony Stark peering down at him he considered for the first time that maybe it was meant to be a bit literal.





	Let It Be

**Author's Note:**

> This was gonna be a one shot but somewhere around imagining the second sex scene I realized I needed at least 3 chapters.

‘You should never meet your heroes’. Peter had heard that before and knew it was meant to keep people from putting others on pedestals, because people would always be a little less than perfect and if you thought otherwise you were doomed to be disappointed. It was about tempering expectations and accepting people as the humans they were, at least Peter was pretty sure that was what one was supposed to take from it.

And yet as he craned his neck back as best he could, considering a beefy scowling man had his elbow between Peter’s shoulder blades and was twisting one of his arms painfully behind his back to keep him down, to look at the bored face of Tony Stark peering down at him he considered for the first time that maybe it was meant to be a bit literal. He had admired Tony Stark, like most people did, for years; not just because he was a futurist, whose company was always on the cusp of the new, best thing but also because seemed to effortlessly come up with new, amazing ways to benefit society with his tech, from clean, renewable energy to sustainable ‘smart’ farming seeds, and of course dismantling the Stark Industries weapons programming a few years back.

Then there was the issue that Peter was biased towards: having the medical section of Stark Industries release a dozen types of omega suppressants, in a variety of doses and types, all at prices so rock bottom other medical companies had cried foul and fought tooth and nail every step of the way to block the development and release. Peter had gone from resigned to bi-monthly heats, painful and long ones that often took him out of school for a week and left him vomiting and hallucinating because he was ‘a special case’ and his aunt and uncle couldn’t afford the medication he needed, to being *normal* for the first time since puberty.   

Even MJ had to grudgingly admit that as disgusting and immoral as it was for anyone to be a billionaire that, all things considered, she’d consider advocating for eating Stark last, were they to ever revolt and eat the rich. It was a pretty big concession coming from her. Other people, on the news and when handing out awards, called Stark a humanitarian. An eccentric one, who moonlighted as a sleazy playboy, flitting from country to country with an endless parade of omegas and woman on his arm but a humanitarian nonetheless.    

And, it seemed, some kind of crime boss, or so Peter assumed since he’d walked into some sort of drug/human trafficking deal, been knocked out, and then woken up to be dragged before the man by a bunch of craggy faced goons in dark suits and sunglasses. Stark, Peter shamefully couldn’t help but note, looked...really good, in a dark blue suit that clung to broad shoulders, a trim waist, and a black shirt across his wide chest. His eyes were dark and mild behind blue tinted sunglasses as they moved from Peter to the wallet in his hands.

Peter followed his gaze then jerked in alarm, realizing it was his wallet, well worn and help together artfully with duct tape.

“Peter Parker. I’m impressed, you’re cute and you have a brain.” Stark pulled Peter’s student ID from the wallet then let it fall carelessly to the floor in favor of examining the little rectangle of plastic closer. “I knew you and your girlfriend were poking into my business but I didn’t think it’d go anywhere.”

He quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “After all, I have cops who couldn’t even connect all those omega disappearances together but you somehow end up in one of my side businesses, taking pictures of my product.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” Peter’s stupid traitor mouth said. “I mean, it’s not hard to connect a few omegas vanishing a month and then figure out what they had in common.”

It hadn’t been hard for MJ anyway, who’d done interviews, dug into the lives of every missing omega, and pieced together a puzzle that no one else seemed to care about. Peter has gotten roped in, spurred by MJ’s insistence that these people, these missing teenagers, could be either of them. Young, labeled troubled because their homelives or personalities weren’t the ideal for omegas, written off as runaways, and forgotten about. But Michelle had been able to dig out some connections, shared friends or boyfriends/girlfriends, places more than a few had visited, filtered out the coincidences with a lot of leg work and investigation. It was amazing, honestly, and Peter has been in awe the entire time, chasing at her heels and recording everything he could. He’d felt like they were doing something, and were close to a revelation.

That was what had brought him out tonight. Michelle was stuck doing family things, bonding with her mom and mom’s boyfriend for the weekend but there was a lead Peter hadn’t wanted to let wait. A wellness clinic slash outreach program for at risk omegas, one of many built and supported by Stark Industries around the city. They were notable because, in an effort to keep their clients safe from potentially abusive or overbearing parents and mates, everything was semi-anonymous. No real names, records were kept under randomized pseudonyms, with no way to track a person to the facilities.

Unless a patient told someone, who remembered, and then told a pair of curious high schoolers who came around asking about it months later. A pattern had formed, with almost a third of the missing omegas having a connection to the clinics, with potential for more. Add on that the ones in Queens was having a private fundraiser on the premises that night and it seemed like a perfect chance to sneak in and poke around.

Peter has managed to slip in through the loading bay, get down into a basement (because everything happened in basements right?) and that was where he’d gotten caught, though not before taking pictures of a half dozen teenagers, all glassy eyed, barely aware of him, in large cages, naked, collared, sprawled out on thin blankets. He’d tried to break the lock on the cage closest to him, pounding in it with a handy fire extinguisher (he was pretty sure he’d seen it work in a movie) while the person inside stared at him blankly.

If he had been thinking clearly, and not so freaked out, he would have realized he was making too much noise, would have thought to just call the cops and hide, would have sent his pictures to MJ already. But he hadn’t done any of that. He hadn’t even known he was in danger until something hard had come down on the back of his head and everything went black.

“Oh? I suppose no one is trying all that hard then.” Stark said, grinning with too many teeth and looking far too smug. “Maybe someone managed to buy off some of the higher ups in the local PD, to make sure no one went looking for a couple of problem omegas.”

Stark dropped Peter’s student ID with a chuckle. “Maybe they can make it so no one comes looking for you, either. Does anyone even know where you were going tonight, Peter?”

Peter’s throat tightened and his stomach dropped. He’d told Aunt May he was hanging out with Michelle, who wasn’t even in the city, and just told MJ he was doing some more interviews. He hadn’t wanted her to worry or tell him not to go alone, so he hadn’t told her the truth of what he was up to. But-

“Of course they do! My family-”

“Thinks you’re with friends. I had my secretary call, offering you an position with my junior science division.” Stark waved a hand dismissively. “And that pretty girlfriend of yours is upstate and you never told her what you were doing. I checked your phone. Four year old Starkphones aren’t exactly hard for me to get into.”

The man reached over and grabbed him by the hair, wrenching his head back sharply. Pain zipped down Peter’s spine and an ache set in at the base of his neck, between his shoulders, immediately. Stark leaned closer, close enough that Peter could feel his breath against his ear, warm and damp as it brushed the shell. The elbow in his back moved but the hand keeping his arm twisted back just pushed harder, a silent threat.

“But I can bring that girl here, if you want. The auction you nearly disrupted-” Auction? They were selling those kids? “Could use another prize, and I know a lot of rich alphas who would appreciate that...spark, and there’s nothing like being someone’s first alpha. A pretty thing like that, and they’ll get to show her what she’s been missing by fucking other omegas? She’ll bring in the big bids.”

Peter froze, for a moment and then he rested up, fighting against the pressure keeping him down. He managed to rise up a little, chest leaving the cool glossy wood of the desk he’d been forced to bend over, and lower body thrown back against the man holding him down. The grip in his hair tightened, pulled so hard he knew he lost hair to it, and his whole scalp throbbed; his arm was squeezed, twisted, and pushed up higher until his shoulder and arm screamed in pain. He trashed around anyway, teeth gritting together and tears blooming in his eyes, refusing to stop. All he could think of, see, was MJ, locked in one of those cages, taken by some shadowy faceless someone who thought they could buy people, could-

Something clicked by his ear, full and echoing. Cool metal pressed against his temple. “Mr. Parker, that’s enough of that, unless you don’t intend to live long enough to see what happens to your friend.”

Peter’s eyes darted to the side, found the blurry outline of a darkly colored gun just at the edge of his vision. He stilled, heart in his throat, ears ringing. Mr. Stark clicked his tongue, disapproving in the way an amused pet owner would be, and ruffled his hair. “Better. Now-”

“Stay away from MJ!” Peter shouted, well aware that his voice cracked and shook, trembling just as his body was. His heart was beating so hard it almost hurt. “Don’t-don’t touch her!”

Stark’s head tilted to the side, a glimmer of something lighting up his eyes. “And what, Mr. Parker, will you give me in exchange?” 

Ice filled Peter’s veins, his stomach, chilled him down to his bones. “I-I...what do you want?” 

”Oh sweetheart,” Stark smiled again, sharp alpha teeth showing. “A smart, pretty omega like you should know just what I want.” 


End file.
